


The Life and Times of a Bastard Half-Elf

by frostykate



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Everyone is Queer, Multi, Other, Trans Male Character, Vignette, of the fantasy kind, ye olde backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 19:30:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11214741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostykate/pseuds/frostykate
Summary: snapshots of one life, through the years.





	The Life and Times of a Bastard Half-Elf

**Author's Note:**

> so our D&D group does these private text-based rp Moments, both in-game and chronologically before it, and the illustrious DM (Grymmlock) decided to write some ficlets and put them together. this is not one of them, but it was 100% inspired by them.

Kiran is 5 years old when his baby sister is born. She is very small and looks very fragile, and his parents let him hold her for a while. Her ears aren’t shaped into points like his, but round like mum’s and dad’s. He doesn’t mind the difference, and he doesn’t stop to think about what it means.

* * *

Kiran is 7 years old, and he knows that his mum isn’t the one living with them in the house. His dad told him, “because you should know the truth, kiddo.” He learns about run-away-mum over the weeks, and he learns that she’s the reason dad sometimes feels a bit sad. He thinks he would like to find her and get to know her.

* * *

Kiran is 11 years old, and Mother keeps calling him ‘Kira’ and ‘daughter’, while Father calls him ‘my child’. Little Lilian is the first one to name him ‘brother’ and it makes something warm bloom in his chest.

He learns about Corellon later, around 13, from an elf they meet on one of their trips. It feels strange, to know there is a god like him. He still doesn’t pray, but from then on considers himself less alone.

* * *

Kiran is 16 years old when he starts feeling the wanderlust. He thinks father might see it, because he talks to him about Savari more often, about how she never could stay in one place for long.

That year, Kiran commissions a set of daggers, his very first. Hunting knives and shortbows have stopped being a novelty long ago.

* * *

Kiran is 17 years old when he leaves home and his family.

He is 17 and living hand-to-mouth in Silverkeep.

He is 18 when he meets Thieni, who is also a bit like him, and they tumble into bed together. A few weeks later he meets the others and joins their Thieves’ Guild. Thieni already has a nickname prepared, which Kiran resolutely ignores every time they aim it at him. Caric takes him under his wing and proves to be the best teacher Kiran’s ever had; it’s not hard to fall a little bit in love with all of them, after that.

Caric calls him ‘little brother’, and Kiran pretends his eyes don’t get wet hearing it.

He is 19, he’s been in the city for more than a year, and he has a family again.

* * *

Kiran is 21 years old when he joins the army, and it’s a strange experience. The number of people in such small quarters is daunting, to say the least. He still misses both of his families, but he gets around. His new sort-of-friends are good people, and his commanding officer is a fair man. Also handsome. Very handsome.

Kiran is utterly certain he is imagining the looks Commander Skanos is throwing at him.

* * *

Kiran is 22 years old when he falls in love. It’s exhilarating, like nothing he’s ever felt before. He gains a few more scars outside of fighting, as does his lover, and he wears them proudly.

He thinks he is dreaming when Aren pulls out the earrings. The sting in his ear and the ache below his belly moments later say otherwise. After celebrating, they make plans to visit Silverkeep and Eriford, to introduce Aren to Kiran’s brother and sister, to maybe find his mother to share the news with.

It doesn’t last.

* * *

Kiran is 24 years old when the sea spits him out, half dead, onto a black beach. He doesn’t have the strength to lift his head, let alone defend himself, when he hears footsteps crunching on the sand.

The last thing he sees is a woman’s face. She looks like a vision from when he was drowning, all wild hair and wilder expression, until she doesn’t. Her lips move, but he can’t hear, and then his vision goes dark.

**Author's Note:**

> it was short, kind of mediocre, I know. but in my defense, I wrote it around 2am, on my phone, in bed, while hella tired. maybe one day I’ll expand on some of the stories. and if not, you can always count on Grymmlock to throw some family goodness with pain at us.


End file.
